Texts I didn't erase, thought I'd never see the day.
It's been a week from that strange sexual occurrence; I successfully fucked out my sadness and melancholy for Minna.
Rakim literally banged my mouth until I was so horny I couldn't take it anymore.
Then he basically fucked the life out of me, bent over the kitchen table.
Wetness was gushing out, coming down his hard dick that was pounding me like there's no tomorrow.
I've tried using techniques like this before but this time it actually worked. I felt way better.
Work's been pretty good, not as busy as we're used to so I could focus on other things as well, like redecorating my apartment, actually do some cleaning for a change.
When Rakim comes over, we tend to leave a mess; if you know what I mean.
I got rid of all the old outfits that don't fit me anymore, everything that reminds me of past events.
I threw a big box out in the street trash container and donated a whole bunch of clothes to Goodwill.
Then I took a shower and chilled in bed, wanting to take a nap but I couldn't. Rakim's words came to mind among other things.
I'll take care of it.
What did he mean by that?
With Rakim, you never know; I don't like to talk to him about his side job. Maybe I'm stupid but I trust him. And he told me this doesn't concern me and he won't have me involved. So as he put his trust into me, I put it into him.
Until I saw his phone buzzing while he was in the shower.
I threw myself on the bed, reaching for it, grabbing it from the nightstand.
It was from Tiffany.
It took me a few seconds to get that it's the name Minna used when she introduced herself to Rakim.
The text only contained some address near the Siren.
I was confused at first, thinking she might've texted him where she wants the drugs to be dropped at.
The curiosity got the best of me so I unlocked his phone and clicked on their text convo.
I was shocked.
He texted her first, asking if she needs anything.
Wait, why would he text her first?
I checked the date and hour of the message, noticing it was sent two days ago.
What did he want?
Her drugged ass replied instantly, saying yes.
Then she texted the address.
They must've talked in between those messages so I checked the calls as well.
It said Tiffany and he called her first.
Should I confront him or not?
I was lost.
💛
Rakim and I were chilling on the balcony, sharing a cigarette in silence. It wasn't all that comfortable though.
All I could think about was Minna and her texting Rakim; it was just so weird. Is he trying to hook up with her, hurt her?
No idea.
"Spill."
He looked at me, blowing out the smoke, handing the cigarette to me.
I just chuckled and leaned my head back while taking a drag.
"You know I'm right." He pointed out. "Now spill."
I was going to ask him anyway, might as well just go for it.
"What's your deal with Minna?"
He seemed surprised by the question. Probably because I've never gone through his phone and there's no other way I could possibly know that.
"Shouldn't have given you my phone code." He was shaking his head.
"Not my proudest moment, I admit. I'm sorry for that. But you're texting my ex, so I gotta know."
I explained.
Truth is, I wouldn't touch his phone otherwise.
Any text, I'm fine.
But Tiffany... I had to see.
"Tyler asked me to text her, if she need anything. He was busy."
It was either the truth or the lamest, most transparent lie ever.
"Tyler asked you to."
"Yeah, last time I checked, he's her dealer; not me."
"Alright. So did you?"
"Did I what?"
He asked me.
"Deliver."
He nodded.
"What did she want?"
"Fentanyl."
I froze. My mouth was open but nothing came out.
"Baby cakes?"
He was looking at me, his brows furrowed in worry.
He knows I'm more than familiar with drugs. I know what fentanyl is. I also knew a couple of individuals that OD'd and died from it.
"You sold her that? How much?"
I was asking questions.
"Where did you even get it?"
"Chill." He tried calming me down.
"Some guy brought a small pack, we handed them out as freebies, so your girl got a free sample."
"How much is that?"
I asked.
"Just one pill, they expensive as hell. At least $200 a pop."
"Fuck."
"What?"
I looked at him.
"How could you give her that?"
"Look, an addict is an addict. When I sell'em their shit, I warn them to keep it cool, be careful and all, especially the new customers."
He said.
"But it ain't my fault they druggies. And it ain't my job setting them straight."
He had a point; But after everything I've seen, it still scared me.
